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When I was in the pit of my most anxious, panic attack filled months, one overwhelming fear kept creeping in between the obsessive worries about the boiler exploding or switches setting on fire: that I had done something terrible at work and was about to get fired.

Each weekend, I’d just know that lurking in my inbox was a furious email from one of my editors, telling me I’d made a massive f***-up and would need to come in for a chat the next day.

On a logical level, I knew I was doing perfectly well and hadn’t committed any horrible crimes.

But anxiety told me that getting fired was just around the corner.

I’d log on to my emails with my eyes closed and my heart pounding, only to find messages from ASOS or stats reports.

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Since I’ve been on antidepressants, and, strangely enough, since I added work emails to my phone (being able to check my emails as they come in has helped to get rid of the fear that there’s always a terrifying message waiting for me the next time I’m on my laptop), this particular worry has eased up.

I don’t feel a constant panic about doing something wrong and getting sacked.

(Picture : Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

But opening up about my mental health has left me with a new fear: that sharing my mental illness so publicly will end up holding me back.

The day after I shared that I’d been having suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, and obsessive worries, I walked into the office certain that people I worked with would be on edge, that they’d treat me differently, that they’d tiptoe around me.

I was sure they’d view me as crazy, basically.

Thankfully, I work somewhere where people understand that struggling with mental health doesn’t make you a terrifying ticking time bomb on the brink of a public breakdown.

People were kind. They were supportive. I got emails thanking me for sharing my story and messages from coworkers telling me they were there to talk whenever I needed.

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

Which was a massive relief.

But that hasn’t stopped me from worrying.

I worry that because I’ve admitted that I would head to the office toilets to have panic attacks, people now know my secret. They’ll think that whenever I nip to the loos I’m struggling for breath and scrubbing away eyeliner stains.

I worry that my bosses will see me as less capable than they did before.

That they’ll think I’m too sensitive. Delicate. Unstable.

I worry that they’ll think I can’t handle criticism (coworkers and bosses reading this: I can, promise). That they’ll look past me when it comes to challenging tasks or taking on more responsibility because they’ll assume I’m not up to it.

(Picture: Dave Anderson for Metro.co.uk)

It’s frustrating, because coming clean about what I was going through has been, and will continue to be, a huge part of feeling better.

But opening up about my mental health has opened me up to other people’s responses and opinions.

I can’t control how other people will view me. I can’t step in to make sure they don’t incorrectly assume that I can’t handle things or I’m not capable.

Admitting that you’re going through depression still isn’t treated the same way as telling people you have a manageable physical condition.

(Picture: Mmuffin/metro.co.uk)

It marks you as a depressed person, an anxious person, someone who might be more emotional or unstable.

That’s because mental illness affects, well, your mentality. And it can affect your work. I get it.

But I don’t want to be overlooked or seen as less than because I’m dealing with a condition that makes things a little tougher.

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I’m still good at my job. I’m still creative. I can still handle criticism.

I might occasionally have panic attacks, but I’m dealing with them. I sometimes have low moods, but I’m taken steps to make myself feel better.

I’m still working out where the boundaries are when it comes to bringing my mental health issues into work.

Is it okay to call in sick when the panic’s too bad for me to leave the house? Or should I lie and say I’ve come down with a 24 hour bug?

(Picture: Daniella Birtley)

If I finally manage to get an appointment to speak to a therapist, can I ask to leave the office and come back the way I would for a doctor’s appointment? Should I be honest about what it’s for?

Should I be honest about turning stuff down when it is too much, when I need a break? Or is that just confirming people’s concerns that I’m weak?

It’s a tricky new world to navigate. I feel responsible to be honest, to play a tiny role in breaking down the silence around mental health by refusing to pretend I’ve come down with the flu or saying I’m fine when I’m not.

But I just don’t want to ever be seen as less capable. I don’t want to end up concerning people.

I don’t want to sit back and watch as other people progress, get promotions, and get given more responsibility while people walk on eggshells around me, scared to give me more than they think I can take on.

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I don’t want my mental illness to define me – and I don’t want it to hold me back.

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

I’m extremely lucky to work in a place where people are understanding about mental illness. But it’s not always possible to know exactly how everyone will react to an admission of a personal struggle.

I understand that yes, mental illness does make things trickier.

But if anything causes issues in my career, I don’t want it to be other people’s assumptions about how mental illness affects me at work.

The answer to that is probably for people to keep being open about mental health, to prove that you can have depression, anxiety, or any other mental illness and keep being a hardworking, brilliant person.

But the answer’s also for workplaces to make sure that everyone feels able to take care of their mental health, regardless of what they’re going through – because we all need to take care of ourselves and make sure we’re not overworking or turning up to the office every day exhausted and unhappy.

Mental wellbeing is important for everyone.

And having struggles with that should never make someone be seen as less capable, worthy of respect, or good at their job.

I’m struggling with my mental health. I’m working on feeling better. And I’m still the same hardworking, creative person everyone everyone viewed me as before I came out about my slightly dodgy brain.

If I can handle suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, and obsessive fears that everything in the world is going to kill me, I can handle my work.